


Sometimes the world’s not fair, is it?

by feeisamarshmallow



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Episode 2x13 Aint No Magic Mountain High Enough, Episode Tag, Gen, but not enough to tag it, sorta maybe hinting at WeeVer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 21:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeisamarshmallow/pseuds/feeisamarshmallow
Summary: Tag to Episode 2x13 ‘Ain’t No Magic Mountain High Enough’. How exactly does Ofelia get involved in Weevil’s plan to steal the cashbox? I’ve always been interested in reconciling the fact that Weevil’s six year old niece is a key player in the theft. How does Weevil justify this? (Because we know he has a staunch set of morals, they just don’t always line up with the law). And more importantly, as a viewer, how do I make sense of it? This is my attempt at an answer.





	Sometimes the world’s not fair, is it?

All characters belong to Rob Thomas and the television network. I just like to play around with them. Dialogue from the show was taken from vmscripts website. 

~~

The halls of Neptune High are lined with colourful posters announcing the school’s annual Winter Carnival. Scenes of garish ferris wheels and carousels painted with cheap tempera on brown paper banners.

Weevil lazily flicks his eyes across the hallway of brash posters, projecting a manner of indifference and menace. Still, for a moment he’s tempted to draw the comparison between the terrible blues, reds and purples of what tried to pass as a carousel, and the bruises still lingering on his face. 

He doesn’t care. He is done with the PCHers. Done with this school and its petty 09ers and stupid teacher and especially with the cholos who are his brothers. 

Used to be his brothers.

Weevil cycles through thoughts of anger and revenge, no longer sure who he is directing them at, all while keeping his face schooled and emotionless. He stalks towards some freshman, just for the satisfaction of seeing them move out of his way. 

He notes that the fear in their eyes is a little less pronounced compared to when Weevil’s swagger was followed by a pack of PCHers. 

‘Carnival tickets $10’ a yellow and red striped poster proclaims to his left. 

‘Pep Squad Pies only $30’ an equally gaudy pink poster with glitter, no less, screams on his right. 

And suddenly an idea alights itself in Weevil’s mind. 

Revenge. Money. Enough to buy a car, and maybe even to get Ofelia another Barbie doll to boot. 

He ambles his way to his math class, and takes his seat. Weevil leans back, crossing his arms to his chest, and begins to make a plan. 

One benefit to his current technicoloured face is that it makes the teachers even more hesitant to discipline him. Sure, the students know he’s no longer Weevil Leader of the PCHers, but the teachers all give him a wide berth, as if his beaten-up face somehow makes him someone more dangerous. 

The teacher drones on. Weevil allows himself a small smile as his plan falls into place. He takes halfhearted notes through the lesson, but instead of completing his homework, he makes his own calculations in the margins. Weevil leaves the class with the same unreadable expression on his face, but more purpose to his steps. 

~~

He doesn’t factor Ofelia into his plan. Sure he has thought he might buy her and the other kids something with the leftover money, but he hasn’t expected her to want to come with him. 

“Please, Tio Eli, why can’t you take me?” Ofelia is hanging off of his leg giving him her best puppy dog eyes. 

“Mija, why would you want to go to a silly school carnival? It’s just a bunch of games rigged so you can never win,” he says, picking her up off his leg and swinging her around. Ofelia squeals in delight before bursting out, “but there will be popcorn and balloons.” The latter part of her sentence is cut off with a shriek as Weevil swings her around in the air again. 

“Get Abuelita to take you grocery shopping with her. I’ll give you some money for popcorn, it’ll be cheaper at the store anyways.” Weevil puts her down and reaches for change in his pocket. 

Suddenly, Ofelia’s face turns serious. With her dark eyes and furrowed eyebrows she looks just like her mother, and seriously older than six years old. 

“I know what you do,” she suddenly blurts out. 

“What are talking about, ‘Felia?” Weevil moves to pick her up again, but she backs away. She tries to mimic the way Weevil stands, her head cocked and arms crossed. 

“When you go out with your friends. On your motorcycles. I know what you do.” She says, looking at him. Her brown eyes somehow both wise and innocent. 

A thousand scenarios flit through Weevil’s mind. _I know what you do_. That we scare old ladies? Worse than that, that we steal cars? That our idea of justice isn’t quite the same as what you learn in kindergarten? The last time he was arrested (for breaking into the Kane’s house, and that just brings up too many memories that Weevil doesn’t want to think about), he told Ofelia he was visiting a friend. 

“What do you mean, ‘Felia?” He asks cautiously. 

“I’m not five anymore, Tio Eli.” She emphasizes the age, and puts her hands on her hips and Weevil can’t help but stifle a smile. “I know that your friends aren’t very nice.” 

He snorts at that, and feels that his jaw is still sore. 

“And sometimes you do bad things?” She says it like a question. Weevil doesn’t know how to respond. He isn’t supposed to have this conversation with Ofelia. She’s supposed to stay young and innocent and happy forever. To never have to know the dark side of Neptune, California. Where even rich, white girls weren’t immune to a violent death. (But at least her death was a tragedy, a bitter voice in Weevil’s head says, everyone just thought Felix’s was nothing more than unavoidable). 

Ofelia is looking at him. “Yeah,” Weevil finally chokes out, “I guess we all do bad things sometimes.” 

Ofelia nods. “Yesterday I hit Molly because she laughed at me because I only have two barbie dolls. She has like thirty hundred.” 

“Don’t listen to girls like Molly. It doesn’t matter what she says.” He knows he should tell her not to hit Molly, but part of Weevil thinks that he doesn’t believe it. That sometimes violence is the only way to protect yourself. And if he has to have this conversation with Ofelia today, maybe one day she’ll have to know that. The thought makes him sad. 

“Besides, your birthday is coming up, isn’t it Mija.” Ofelia nods, carefully, confused at the change in the conversation. “Maybe you’ll get another Barbie for your birthday.” 

Suddenly Weevil’s plans for the school carnival have taken on much more weight. 

“But I don’t want a Barbie!” She exclaims and runs into Weevil’s arms. “I want to go to the carnival! Please Tio Eli please please please!” 

Weevil opens his mouth, about to give in, when she interjects. “I can help you.” 

It’s like she has read your mind. “Are you gonna get back at your friends? I’ll help you.” 

Weevil doesn’t let her see him the first couple days after his beating at the hands of the PCHers. He had finally pulled himself to his feet and walked home that night, disappeared into his room with some ice cubes in a plastic bag and the bottle of aspirin. Spent the first day too sore and dizzy to move very much and, if he was honest, too empty inside to care. But the second day he knew he had to show his face to the PCHers and stand his ground, so he dragged himself out of bed and onto the school bus, the pain in every part of his body a convenient distraction from the shame of riding the bus to school. Ofelia doesn’t see him until a week afterwards, he tells her he was sick. But he still has the bruises on his face and she immediately pokes them, and asks what happened. 

A plan starts to form in Weevil’s head. He knows he shouldn’t. But Ofelia already seems to know that Neptune isn’t a fair place to live. And if she has figured that out, she might as well learn how to fight for herself. (And god knows he had already figured that out by six years old. Alone at Abuelita’s house asking why his mom had left.) 

“Well then, go get your stuff, let’s go.” 

She squeals in delight. “You’re the best. I love you even more than popcorn!” 

She runs into the next room and Weevil smiles. 

~~

They walk to Neptune High. Weevil thinks about the car he can buy off of Angel with the cash he’ll have by the end of the day. It’s winter, but Neptune is forever sunny. As if the beautiful weather can mask all that is unpleasant in the town. 

“So how’re we gonna get back at your bad friends?” Ofelia looks up at him. 

Weevil sighs. As soon as he explains his plan to Ofelia, it’s for real. Like he’s pulling back the curtain to expose all the shit that Neptune’s shiny façade hid. “Well, I was thinking maybe we’d make it look like they did something bad,” he says cautiously. 

“So they’ll get in trouble?” Ofelia’s eyes shine with excitement and a little deviousness. 

Weevil nods. “I’m gonna give you something to hold onto, in your backpack, can you do that?” He feels a miniscule spark of excitement rising in his chest, the thrill of pulling off a challenging task with another person, even if that person happens to be his six-year old niece. 

Ofelia nods her head in return, her eyes dark and solemn. 

“And then when I tell you, can you hide it in the ball pit?”

“There’s a ball pit at the carnival!” Ofelia shrieks. 

“Yes, ‘Felia, there’s a ball pit.”

“Can I play in it?” 

He ruffles her hair and she bats away his hand. “Of course, that’s the whole plan, you gotta hide something in the ball pit for me, but only when I tell you, ‘kay?” 

“Okay!” she sing-songs. Then she turns to face Weevil and whispers, loudly, “I really wanna help you Tio Eli,” she pauses and thinks, “and I really want popcorn.” 

They arrive at the carnival and Weevil pays for them to enter. It’s as gaudy and fake as was advertised on the posters, but at least Ofelia seems to be having a good time. He hasn’t yet told her that the item he plans to steal, and frame Thumper with, is the cashbox containing all of the funds raised for the class year end trip. 

Weevil and Ofelia do a lap of the carnival, Ofelia to marvel at the colorful banners, endless rows of carnival games and massive sticks of cotton candy, and Weevil to survey the area. 

“Ohh balloons!” Ofelia exclaims, with the same enthusiasm she has displayed first for popcorn and then for the ball pit. She drags him by the hand towards the balloon vender, whose collection of rainbow-hued balloons are swaying gently in the wind. Weevil turns his head to nonchalantly scope out the FBLA booth, where he knows the cashbox is kept, as his very eager niece drags him towards the balloons. 

“Can I get some balloons, Tio Eli?” She tugs on his arm. 

He bends down on one knee, partially to address Ofelia face-to-face, partially to confirm his hunch that the cash box was accessible from the outside, through a sliding panel on the side of the display counter. By this point, Weevil has noticed none other than Veronica Mars working the FBLA slushy stand, and although he factored the possibility of Veronica into his plan, it does make pulling off the heist significantly more difficult. 

He turns to Ofelia. Good thing no one appears more innocent than a six-year old girl. “Okay, you want fifty balloons, or some popcorn and ice cream?”. 

“Balloons!” Ofelia smiles. 

Weevil can’t help but smile back at her unbridled enthusiasm for what is, truly, a cheesy school carnival. He has lots of nieces and nephews, but Weevil and Ofelia hit it off particularly well. She is quick-witted and smart. As fast to smile as she is to sit quietly and puzzle out a problem. Her favourite pass-time is reading, and Weevil has read more princess-themed picture books than he cares to admit. If he is honest, he sees himself in Ofelia. But if he has anything to do with it, her life will turn out far different than his. 

“You say that now, then it's ‘Oh, Uncle Eli, I'm so hungry!’” He hears himself translating his name into English, and part of him cringes inside, but the other part is all too aware of the presence of Dick and Logan and the other 09ers around him. And while Weevil is used to ignoring their racist remarks, he doesn’t want Ofelia to have to do the same. 

He tickles Ofelia and she laughs. Ofelia grabs the balloons and he takes her hand again. He’s stalling for time—he knows that the Tritons should be racing past in just a few minutes, and then he will have to act fast. Before he getting up, he lowers his voices and explains, “I’m gonna get the thing soon, and I have to give it to you fast to put in your bag, okay?”

She returns his serious gaze, “okay.” 

He stands just as Thumper struts past, hitting Ofelia’s balloon as he goes. 

“Oops, thought that was your head.” Thumper always postured in the strangest ways, as if punching Ofelia’s balloon made him any sort of badass. Weevil can’t help but mentally compare leadership strategies, Thumper is only proving why Weevil would have never, ever chosen him to lead the PCHers. Ofelia makes eye contact with Weevil then, as if to ask, “is that your bad friend” as she said. Weevil nods slightly in silent agreement. 

They meander closer to the slushy stand, careful to avoid the gaze of one Veronica Mars, who is thankfully distracted by Ms. Hauser. 

On cue, the naked Tritons come racing past them, and it only belatedly occurs to Weevil that maybe this isn’t the most age-appropriate activity for Ofelia. Yet, there is no time for hesitation, so Weevil kneels down next to the stand, slides open the cupboard, and pulls out the grey, metal cashbox. He turns to Ofelia, who is watching the Tritons race past with a confused expression, her bag already open and waiting. He stuffs the cashbox into her bag and zips it up. 

“Aren’t they cold, Tio Eli?” He almost barks out laughter, that being cold is Ofelia’s main concern with the Triton’s annual tuck and run. He helps her put her backpack back on, watching her tip forward a bit with the weight, before straightening up with a determined look in her eye. 

“Yeah, they probably are cold,” he finally replies. “Ready to go play in the ball pit?” 

“Yes!” She exclaims, jumping a little and grabbing his hand again. She doesn’t ask what is in the box, and although Weevil would like to think that she doesn’t recognize it as a cashbox, he is sure she knows, or at least guesses, that it’s cash. 

He watches nervously as Ofelia jumps in the ball pit with her backpack, and then fiddles with the zipper, before disappearing under the balls to plant the cashbox. He is impressed, she has been the model accomplice, and makes the transfer with ease. 

“Watch this!” She jumps up as high as she can as falls back, spread-eagled, into the ball pit. 

“Wow,” he tries to sound engaged, but watches for Veronica out of the corner of his eye. No doubt she’ll be hunting him down soon to accuse him of stealing. It seems to be her favourite pastime. Although, he supposed, today she would be correct. Her interrogation would be Ofelia’s ultimate test. 

He stands, keeping watch over Ofelia, for longer than he finds necessary. But Ofelia seems to be having fun, doing the same thing over and over, and he can’t bear to tear her away. Finally, she tires and climbs out of the ball pit. He is a little nervous about leaving the cashbox out of his sight, but for the plan to work, he needs to meet Veronica without the cashbox anywhere near him or Ofelia. 

“Can we get some popcorn now? I’m soooo hungry.” 

“I told you, but you wanted balloons.” He pretends to be exasperated. 

Ofelia looks a little bashful. “I’ll share some with you.” 

He looks at her and cocks his head. She lowers her gaze. But Weevil can’t keep up the pretense and he acquiesces, “Only if you share.” 

“Hey, and, you know to keep quiet about our plan?” He asks Ofelia, trying to prepare her, if such a thing is possible, for the force of Veronica Mars. 

“I already told you, I’m not five anymore!” It’s like she has picked up his pretend-exasperation and thrown it right back at him. 

It isn’t until they’re seated on the bleachers enjoying their popcorn, that Veronica approaches them. 

“Hey, who’s your date?” Veronica questions, straight and to the point. 

“This is Ofelia, my niece. This is Veronica.” Ofelia is suddenly shy, and stops eating her popcorn to shrink into Weevil’s side. 

“Nice backpack. You like the Powerpuff girls, huh?” Veronica starts to feel the backpack. “Which one is this?” Ofelia is still quiet, and Weevil knows he needs to take the upper hand in the conversation. 

“She’s the one that’s not shaped like a metal cashbox.” Sometimes surprising Veronica with information plays in his favour, and he hopes throw her off their trail. 

Veronica’s head snaps up, suspicious. 

“They start moving metal detectors around, Veronica, you think the word's not gonna spread? Why don't you just open it up already?” He challenges her, hard proof they don’t have the cashbox. 

Veronica, for her part, wastes no time rifling through Ofelia’s bag, pulling out a half-naked doll and three picture books. Weevil is impressed they managed to fit the cashbox in her backpack. Disappointed, Veronica gives Weevil and Ofelia a once-over, and then turns away, as if looking for the next location to search. 

Weevil can’t help rubbing it in a little further, “you know your case must really suck if your prime suspect is a six year-old.” 

With that, Veronica gets up and leaves, and Weevil laughs to himself. This is the best he has felt in a while. What that says about him, he’s not sure. 

“Are you done your popcorn? Ready to go back to the ball pit?” 

Ofelia, now recovered from her spontaneous timidity, wrinkles her face. “But I don’t wanna go back to the ball pit.” 

“It’s just for a second.” 

“But I already did the ballpit.” She crosses her arms. 

Before Weevil can try to convince her further, she reconsiders, “but I want to help you get back at your friends,” she pauses “what’s their name?” 

Weevil figures he at least owes her that. “Thumper.” 

“Like the rabbit?” 

That makes him laugh. “Yeah, like the rabbit,” he says fondly. 

They retrieve the cashbox without difficulty and take a seat on a bench. 

“Tio Eli,” Ofelia looks up at him, swinging her legs, “are we done yet?” 

“Almost. Are you done at the carnival?” 

“Yes.” 

“We’ve got one more place to go, then we can go home.” Ofelia nods her head, and reaches out to take Weevil’s hand. She looks tired now, worn out from the spectacle of the carnival. 

Weevil digs his shop key out of his pocket and leads Ofelia to the auto-shop, the final step of his plan. Ofelia wanders over to the half-disassembled car, looking with interest, while Weevil breaks the lock off of Thumper’s locker. He pulls out the bag of ephedrine he plans to plant there, a cover for the money he is going to take for himself. It’s a risk, entering the school carnival with what looked, at least, like a bag of drugs on him. But, Weevil has figured, he could always prove it was only medication. And it turns out Ofelia is the ultimate deterrent of any sort of criminal accusation. Expect for Veronica Mars, she is something special. 

He doesn’t notice Ofelia standing over his shoulder until he’s halfway through counting out the money, dividing it between the cash he’s going to plant in Thumper’s locker and the cash he’ll keep for himself. 

“Sometimes the world’s not fair is it?” Ofelia says out of the blue. 

He takes a minute to respond. “No, mija, it’s not, is it?” 

She shakes her head solemnly, falling quiet. 

“Is it okay to do a bad thing to make it fairer?” She looks at him, hopeful. 

Weevil feels hot with shame all of sudden. She knows exactly what he’s doing, pocketing the money, stealing it from the carnival. Why did he think this was a good idea to bring her along? But you wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without her, a voice whispers in his head. His ribs twinge as shifts position, forever reminding him of his disgraceful exit from the PCHers. 

Ofelia’s eyes look like his own, like his sister’s (her mother’s), and he supposes, like his mother before her. How to even begin to explain the forces that leave him to exact his own revenge on Thumper? That lead those girls to laugh at Ofelia. How to untangle all the things, wrong or right, that have led them to this moment? 

“I don’t know.” He answers, truthfully. “What do you think?” 

She shrugs, continuing to look up at him. He so desperately doesn’t want to disappoint her. Doesn’t want her to experience the sinking dread of realizing someone you look up isn’t worthy of that admiration (like a father in jail who is as good as a stranger). 

“I don’t know,” he says again, “but sometimes it’s the only way you can make things right, even if it’s also wrong. You have to make the choice.” 

Ofelia is quiet for a moment, and then launches into a longwinded story. “One time, I was at the playground, and—and Molly was there again. And we were playing horses and she was the momma horse and then, she was the momma horse so she told me that, that my mommy didn’t love me. And so then I, I choosed to tell her that she mean and nobody liked her and nobody wanted to be her friend.” Ofelia pauses for a breath. “I was mean too,” she thinks, “but I choosed to do it, to also make it right?” She ends her phrase with a question. 

Weevil doesn’t know what to say. Ofelia is trying to make sense of everything. Hell he’s trying to make sense of how all the twists and turns the last few years of his life have brought him to this moment. Calling a little girl names wasn’t the same as taking nine thousand dollars. And yet—

“And sometimes the only one you can depend on to make it right is yourself.” Weevil says, matter-of-fact, but tinged with sadness. 

Ofelia seems to sense his sadness, to understand the trickiness of the conversation, and she walks over and tentatively wraps him in a hug. 

“And you?” she sounds unsure. 

“And me.” He returns the hug, “You’ll always have me.” 

~~

Weevil and Ofelia are at the exit when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and his heart sinks. They’ve caught him, and now he’s tied Ofelia up in this mess. He can take the fall, but Ofelia, she doesn’t deserve this. 

Then Principle Clemmons speaks, “Eli. Would you mind waiting for a few more minutes? As you may have heard our cashbox has, uh, gone missing. Some video has surfaced of the events right before the theft, so we’d like all people near the slushie stand at the time of the incident to remain present until we find the cashbox.” 

Weevil sighs in relief. He doesn’t want to stay, but at least he hasn’t been found out. And why would he be? This is an easy job, he could pull it off in his sleep. He isn’t concerned by the amateur video footage, he knows how to be discrete. Ofelia, on the other hand, is tired. She’s dragging her feet and stifling a yawn as they are led into Ms. Hauser’s classroom to review the video. 

Mr. Clemmons waits to speak until everyone has trickled into the classroom—Veronica, J.B. Jackie, Madison, Dick and Ms. Hauser. “One of your classmates was filming tonight for the Video Yearbook. Those of you we’ve asked to join us were in the vicinity of the cashbox right before the unfortunate streaking incident. Your lockers are being searched as we speak.” Weevil smiles to himself, locker searches aren’t a problem. 

J.B. speaks up, “Even if you found money, there’s really no way of proving it’s the stolen money.” Weevil is bored, they’re wasting his time and he’s impatient for Thumper to be found out. He wonders idly if J.B. dyes his hair that unnatural shade of black. 

Ms. Hauser speaks in response, “Not a lot of people carry twelve grand on them.” 

Dick can’t let the moment pass and chimes in, “Uh I never leave the house without at least thirteen.” 

Weevil rolls his eyes, “yeah, me either.” He feels the wad of cash burning a hole in his pocket. Joke’s on all of them, he’s speaking the truth in this case. 

“Actually, I got a fifty dollar bill when I was working the Slushie Booth. It had the name Nancy in black marker across the back, along with a phone number. That’s one way to know if it’s the cashbox money.” Weevil perks up at Veronica’s voice. He couldn’t remember, did he leave the fifty dollar bill in the money he left in Thumper’s locker? He’s on edge as they show the video, anxious to get back to the shop and make sure there was no way Thumper wouldn’t get a taste of his own justice. 

The video shows Veronica working the Slushie booth, before swinging wildly around to Dick playing a carnival game, and past Weevil bent down talking Ofelia. Standing in the darkened class room, he looks down at her and smiles. She’s a good kid. And she’s keeping absolutely silent about their heist. 

Just like Weevil planned, the video shows nothing of the theft, and they’re free to leave, but instructed to stay at the carnival. 

He truly feels sorry for Ofelia at this point as he drags her back to the shop as quick as he can. He doesn’t know what she’s thinking, after that meeting with principle Clemmons. He puts in his code and unlocks his lock, now on Thumper’s locker, and rifles through the cash. He comes across a fifty, but without the name and number on the back. Too pressed for time, Weevil instead scrawls “Nancy” on the bill and makes up a phone number. 

Weevil and Ofelia are walking back through the carnival, headed for the exit, when Veronica finds them. She strides towards them purposefully, her mouth set in the way that means she wants information. 

“Whoa, sorry. I can’t let you frisk me. She’s at an impressionable age.” He gestures to Ofelia. Impressionable, he thinks, because she’s already figured out the world doesn’t work the way it should. And the lines between right and wrong are blurry and the people who are supposed to have your back or be your friends can’t be depended upon. Impressionable because she has already decided that stealing isn’t always wrong and what kind of set of morals is that for a six year old. 

“Remember when you and your buddy Logan spindled our teacher’s car? How did that work? I’m not big on power tools, but I’m thinking that might involve some type of saw?” She tilts her head at him, like she’s certain she has figured him all out. 

“I don’t know why you bother fishing here. You got a question, ask it.” He’s on the defensive after his conversation with Ofelia. All he wants is to leave with the satisfaction of enacting revenge on Thumper and spend the rest of the night watching cartoons with Ofelia until his sister gets off work and picks her up. 

“You seem to know a way to get into autoshop after hours. Suspicious.” 

Veronica loves when she thinks she’s got the upper-hand in the conversation, so it’s with great relish that Weevil takes that leverage away from her. “Well, then you’re suspicious of a lot of people. All the guys who take shop make copies of Mr. Dalton’s keys.” 

Veronica’s face falls and she strides away with as much purpose as she walked up with. Weevil suddenly feels an intense relief that he got away with stealing the money and framing Thumper. Part of him wants to stick around for the satisfaction of seeing Thumper’s face when he figures out he’s been framed, but more than that, he wants to take a very exhausted Ofelia home. He knows that tonight he’ll head over to Angel’s, eager to exchange the cash for a car, a green impala Weevil has had his eye on for a while. 

He also knows that sooner or later Veronica will figure him out, but he understands that girl better than she thinks. Give it a little time, let her figure out the element of revenge in his plan, and he is confident she won’t give him up. Veronica, he shakes his head, she too, has figured out that the lines between right and wrong are blurred at best, and that sometimes the only way to find justice is to personally enact it. But he can’t dwell too long on Veronica, his feelings for her are even more blurred and complicated. 

He looks down at his niece, leaning against his leg with her eyes have closed. 

“Ready to go home, ‘Felia?” 

She nods, and reaches up to grab his hand. 

“I love you, Tio Eli.” 

“I love you too, Ofelia.” He takes her hand and they walk out of the carnival. Later, Weevil will buy a new Barbie as her Christmas present, but this moment right now, is almost as good. The world around them is undoubtedly painted in shades of grey, in ambiguous rights and wrongs, but at least the love between them is clear and unwavering. 

And later Veronica will confirm that love (‘of rollercoasters’) is what keeps her from turning them in. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I’ve wanted to write for ages—exploring Weevil & Ofelia’s relationship, how she came to be involved in the theft, and how her role was justified in Weevil’s mind. Weevil’s perspective is really interesting to write from, because he’s a lot more perceptive than he gets to show on VM, we only get to see glimpses. I love being able to flesh out his character by writing fic, and it’s great fun to rewrite scenes, but from his perspective. Leave me a comment, if you so desire. (These are minor characters in an older fandom, so any interaction is exciting!) Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr @ feeisamarshmallow.


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